


Could It Be?

by dcisamtyler



Category: The Great (TV 2020), The Great - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Content, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcisamtyler/pseuds/dcisamtyler
Summary: Soulmate AU. You visit your old friend Catherine in the palace, unaware that your soulmate might be waiting there for you.
Relationships: Count Orlo/Reader, Orlo (The Great TV 2020)/Reader, Orlo (The Great TV 2020)/You
Comments: 19
Kudos: 27





	1. The Lady

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help but write a long-fic for Count Orlo. He's such a good egg. 
> 
> Please excuse any historical or other inaccuracies in the story. Enjoy!

Your first thought in the palace was that Catherine looked different.

It tied a nervous knot in your stomach as you rounded the corner into the entryway to meet her. You had to consciously unclench your fists and drop your shoulders as you caught your first glimpse of your old friend. While Catherine still somewhat resembled the youthful girl you had befriended as a child, this version stared ahead with an icy gaze. This was her now – a proper Empress. 

A proper Empress with her hands clasped in front of her stomach. Her blonde hair sat on the top of her head in a beautifully plaited bun. She seemed to sparkle under sunlight – the light beads on her dress catching the light at the right time. 

While you came from a wealthy family, your family certainly held no contest to the Emperor’s court. Here, wealth showed in every detail from the blood-red curtains over the windows to the gold trim of the walls. Now, within the sight of such extravagance, you suddenly felt under-dressed in your own gown. Smoothing your clammy palms over it, you clasped your own hands and attempted a face of indifference – one a member of the court might wear.

But all that went away when Catherine saw you. She immediately softened when you arrived through the double doors, her icy stare melting into a warm smile from her eyes to her mouth. Glancing at the two men leading you inside, she gave a little bow. “Y/N, I am beyond glad to see you here.”

When the two men walked away, they bowed at her and left silently. Now that the entryway was empty, she glanced back at her maid and took your hands in hers, a happy squeal leaving her lips. “Fuck, Y/N. You do not know how long I have been waiting for this. A familiar face.”

“I am happy to be here, Empress,” you replied, albeit a bit shaky, unsure of the proper greeting. 

Surprisingly, there was not a book of literature about how to treat your old-friend-turned-royal. You only wish there was, as you would have secretly tucked it into your coat to read over the long journey to Russia. Instead, you kept your gaze trained on the sky, watching the steady change of colors. It was not the most invigorating ride, and you certainly did not look forward to doing it again.

Catherine tilted her head at you. “Please, Y/N, call me Catherine. I am the same girl as I was then, I assure you.”

Behind Catherine, her maid snickered, raising an eyebrow and adjusting her hands. Your eyes flashed up to meet hers, and Catherine turned around, a stern-but-soft look on her face. “Marial, this is Y/N. My oldest and dearest friend.”

“And here I was, believing that Leo was your dearest friend,” Marial quipped. She gave you a polite nod and a smile.

“We’re soulmates, Marial. It’s different…” She shook her head, trailing off. With a slight wave of the hand, she returned her gaze to you, eyes wide. “Speaking of which, have you found your soulmate, Y/N?”

“No, I—” you started, your eyes wandering behind Catherine and Marial as you spotted a short man with dark hair and glasses, clutching a folder of paperwork leave the room behind them.

His eyes looked black behind his glasses and a frown bore into his features as he began to stalk off towards the hallway. But when he noticed Catherine standing there, he took a breath in and stopped in his steps, instead walking over to join you.

“Catherine, I need to speak with you,” he whispered, a soft tone coating his voice. He glanced up at you, his eyes widening a bit before he raised his eyebrows at her. “Please forgive my impoliteness, but it is urgent.”

Marial rolled her eyes while Catherine put a hand up. “Not now, Count Orlo.”

“But Empress, I must ask—"

“Later, Orlo. Please.”

The man who you now knew as Count Orlo, let out a dejected sigh. “Empress, we—”

Catherine stared at him with a firm gaze, gesturing towards you, as if to remind him there was a guest in their midst.

A blush fell over his face as he stuttered out an apology. He clutched his folder with both hands and awkwardly nodded towards you. “It is nice to meet you, Y/N. Catherine mentioned your visit.”

You smiled, noticing how quickly his disposition changed. At first, as you saw him walking out of the room, he seemed like he could domineer an army of men. But now, he seemed to develop a stutter as he clutched onto his paperwork as if it was a life preserver.

But he was certainly handsome. He had beautiful brown eyes, and as you took in the sight of him, your mind instantly fell into the thought of trailing a finger down that jawline, tracing your thumb along his plump lips. You wondered if there was ever a bite behind them, or if he was always this timid and small, sinking into his clothing.

“You, as well, Count,” you said, politely, the smile remaining on your lips.

The count’s lips parted as he stared at you. He cleared his throat. “Oh, no, no, please, it’s s-simply Orlo.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a slight worry surfaced about what Catherine must have thought of the interaction. Had she noticed how handsome you found this man? Your eyes must have been larger than dinner plates as you watched him in amusement. But you hadn’t noticed Catherine or Marial’s faces. 

While you were certain that they were still standing by your side, it truly felt like Count Orlo – this man shrinking with his folder of paperwork and sparkling brown eyes – was the only person in the entire palace worth talking to. You had to resist reaching out to caress his cheek and silently chastised yourself. After all, this was your first, and possibly only meeting.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat behind you. Catherine. She placed a gentle hand on Orlo’s arm, lifting an eyebrow. “Orlo, we will see you at dinner later this evening, yes?”

Orlo glanced at you. He swallowed hard and nodded towards Catherine. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

And with that, Count Orlo gave you one more polite nod before walking off, awkwardly rubbing at his throat.

As you watched him walk down the hallway, Catherine touched your arm to gain your attention. “Let’s walk back to my apartments to ready ourselves for this evening. I have a surprise for you at dinner.”

******

You were petrified for your welcoming dinner. This was your official welcome into the palace as a guest of the Emperor and Empress. You would formally meet all the members of the court, and set the tone for the visit. But Catherine had promised you a surprise. She was rather excited for it as well, practically a ball of light as she hinted at it.

You assumed it was the special wine they had brought in for you. A crisp moscato, it flowed easily down your throat like the juice of a freshly-picked fruit. 

Seeing all the eyes curiously watch you, sizing you up, you kept your hand near your glass all night. After you dug into the meal where the food was piled high and plated with elegance, Peter stood up at the head table where you sat alongside him and Catherine.

“Let us welcome our guest – Y/N. She will be treated as such. That means you, Orlo. Now is not the time to practice your lackluster skills with a woman.”

As he heard the jape, Orlo sank into his seat, unable to speak, as the room erupted into laughter. You met his gaze, hoping to mouth an apology, but he glanced away too quickly, his face flashing with regret. You wondered if this was a usual occurrence.

“But now, now, settle down," Peter continued. "Y/N is not only our guest. She is now a member of the court. Huzzah!”

You were halfway through a sip of wine when you nearly choked on it. A what? You looked over at Catherine for confirmation. She was beaming at you as if she just offered you the world on a golden platter. Somehow, it felt like she truly had. You shook her head at her, still in disbelief. “You cannot do that for me.”

Catherine smirked. “I am the Empress, I can do whatever I wish.”

So, this was the surprise. Before your arrival, she consulted with the Emperor about making you a Lady. It was the purest of favors. Something that most likely did not mean much to Peter, but meant a lot to you. With that status, you would be able to stay as a member of the court and live in the palace in your own apartments. You and Catherine could maintain your friendship in person, rather than writing long-winded letters to each other.

You sighed, carefully placing your wine down, trying your best not to notice how every single pair of eyes was staring at you now. “I am not worthy of that title, Catherine,” you whispered.

She tutted. “Rather the opposite, Y/N. I think you are perfect for it.”


	2. The Library

“I do hope you are comfortable?” your new maid, Lila, asked from the other side of the room. Her blue eyes quickly glanced away as you met her gaze with a quick nod. “Are you sure you do not desire anything else, Lady Y/N?” 

You grit your teeth at your new name but shook your head, forcing your lips into a soft smile. While Lila was terribly sweet, almost beyond pastry standards, you wanted to be alone. 

Unfortunately, the girl was not familiar with that concept. She watched you for a moment, hesitant, as if unsure if she should actually leave the room. It was not a test, but she still treated it as such, blinking at you until you finally raised an eyebrow at her. “You are welcome to go, Lila. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” 

Lila gasped, erupting into a quick thank you and a farewell, bowing and scurrying off out of your apartments. Young and adorable, but skittish, she had the general disposition of a mouse. Her voice never seemed to rise a notch above a squeak. It was nice to have her, but you were not familiar with her constant presence. It almost felt suffocating to have someone catering to your every whim.

Back home, your parents insisted you learn how to do everything yourself, even if the family hired help. The help was treated as part of the family. Here, the mere suggestion of treating your serf properly looked silly. You sincerely hoped Lila didn’t see you as rude for not wanting her around.

You laughed softly as you watched Lila leave with a little bounce in her step as she closed the door behind her. 

Letting out a sigh, you felt the warm water underneath your fingertips. The water barely reached your bare collarbone, touching your soulmate mark. The tiny swirls sat in your skin like white veins. Normally hidden underneath your shirts and gowns, it seemed to mock you every time it was out in the open. 

A sudden thought entered your mind. Now that you were a Lady, you would never return home to Germany. 

What if your soulmate was waiting for you back home? You would never know who shared your mark. They would never be able to cherish your touch or linger within your bed sheets. The certainty of the love of your life always floated in the back of your mind as you cast your eyes over the young men that lived in your village. While some of them captured your eye, none of them ever truly captured your heart, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces. 

But now that you were living in Russia as a member of Peter's court, it dawned on you that your soulmate could be living within the palace walls. Could your soulmate be one of Peter's foolish cohorts? A man with no wit or brain of his own? Despite the warmth, your body shuddered at the idea. You would rather feed yourself to Catherine's bear than be a useless hole for one of Peter's desperate friends.

Trying to relax and steer your mind away from the terrible possibility, you sank further into the bath, letting the water creep over your shoulders. But your mind would not flip away from every worry now circling in your head over your new status.

Catherine shined after the news was announced. She beamed at the idea of having a true friend in the court, instead of the current empty-headed selection of Ladies. According to her letters, none of them ever treated her right. They operated on pure disdain and arrogance. Clearly, you had much to look forward to with your new set of friends, if you could even refer to them as such. 

Your self-esteem was going to need some work, but it appeared Catherine sensed it already. She would not stop giving you reassuring grins throughout the entire meal, whispering little compliments about how wonderful you were going to be. A breath of fresh air.

You weren't quite certain. This dinner felt like a prison sentence. All you wanted to do now was escape out of the dining hall and run back home to never return. Russia wasn't your home. Catherine was your only true attachment to the country. You were lucky you learned the language as a young child, but your tongue would never be as quick. Your brain would always be a half-step behind the others as it worked to translate. 

It took more energy to sit through an entire meal in Russian than go for a run out in the forest. When you were alone, you cherished being able to think in your own language.

When you left the dining hall to return to your apartments, hoping nobody would notice, Catherine grabbed your hand. She gave you a big hug and insisted on a miniature celebration in her apartments alongside Marial and her lover, Leo. But the news did not feel as if it warranted a celebration. The fact that you were now a Lady sent your head spiraling. More alcohol certainly was not the solution to that problem.

You didn't want to seem ungrateful, but the way Catherine's smile faltered a bit made you feel your rejection of her celebration was taken that way.

But you needed to mull over it. A Lady of the court? You? A German whose wealth could never match Peter's? It was near humiliating to think about, especially as you considered the general reaction of the court. 

A fire appeared in every pair of eyes as they stared at you behind their faux smiles. Bile rose up in all of their throats as they dealt with the jealousy and disgust. It was clear: you were never truly going to be one of them. A title meant nothing, even if it came directly from the royal family.

Considering the thought, you felt restless. The water was growing cold and you needed to get out of your mind. Certainly, everybody would be in bed by now.

You had heard Catherine mention a library in the palace as she gave you a quick tour. Stacked to the brim with words, pamphlets, and literature, it was the perfect place to lose your head.

Under candlelight, you wandered down the hallways in a soft dress, trying to remember where Catherine mentioned the library. With every step, you feared someone might see you or question you. After all, a Lady should never be meandering throughout the palace under the dark of the night, unless she was headed to a man's apartments. 

It would be even worse to tell someone that you were headed for the library. Most of the Ladies were illiterate. The fact that you were fluent in two languages, working on French and English, made you a walking target for japes. An educated woman was a threat.

As you walked down the endless array of rooms and corridors, your footsteps light and quiet, it was like walking through a maze. Thankfully, as you turned the corner, you saw the familiar door lined with gold. You rested a hand on the carvings for a moment, appreciating the beauty of the palace, before opening the door.

It was everything you hoped it would be. Shelves filled with books and pamphlets of several languages greeted you as you walked inside, your heart swelling. You only dreamed of owning a library like this and believed you would never come close. Setting your own candle down, you lit a few more to brighten the room and fished through the different books, settling on a rather large book written by a Russian author. Collapsing onto a pile of floor pillows, you began to devour the words.

A few chapters in, the door creaked and you nearly jumped out of your skin. You covered yourself up with your dress, tossing the book away, squinting at a figure through the candlelight. The person jolted as they noticed who you were. Blinking, you sat up and found yourself looking up at Count Orlo. He was stammering as he noticed you in your light dress, his eyes moving from your eyes to the book, to your bare skin. Suddenly, you wished you had brought a coat, but you had not considered it as you left your apartments. All you wanted to do was read.

"Oh! Y/N, I m-mean, Lady Y/N, p-pardon me," Orlo pleaded, with his hands up. "I did not realize, uh, well, normally, I am the only one who comes here. I apologize."

You smiled, watching the man as he considered whether or not he needed to run or hide. "You do not need to apologize, Orlo. This is a beautiful library."

At your words, Orlo softened. He nodded, a little grin appearing on his lips. He ran a shaky palm over his hair as he searched for something to say, looking anywhere but at the soft cloth covering your skin. Again, you silently chastised yourself for wearing your nightgown out of your apartments. Of course, you would run into a handsome member of the court while you were wearing it in a place where you shouldn't be. You stared up at Orlo, your eyes begging him to not make any further comments about your current location. If he let anyone know, you would be laughed out of the palace.

Instead, Orlo glanced down at the closed book lingering at your fingertips. A soft grin and a jolt of energy seemed to run through him as he pointed at it. "That is a wonderful choice. One of my favorites."

Swallowing, you straightened against the wall. "Is it?"

He grinned without answering, gesturing towards the space in front of you, asking for your permission to sit. You shrugged graciously, feeling your heart start to skip as his brown eyes fell over you. He was terribly handsome lit by candlelight. You could see the sparkles in his eyes as his eyes fell over all of the books. The man who sank into his seat at dinner now came alive at the sight of literature. 

It was silent for a moment before he swallowed, considering his next words. He met your gaze. "Perhaps, I should not mention this, but I-I saw you earlier. After dinner? You looked..." he trailed off as if he could not figure out which word would not offend you. He shook his head apologetically, unable to finish his sentence.

"Lost?" you finished.

Orlo nodded with a slight laugh, awkwardly straightening his jacket. "Lost," he repeated, still apologetic.

He was right. You did look lost. Everybody could see the doe-eyed look on your face as you wandered the halls of the palace. When you first arrived, it felt like you were a ghost. Now, everybody could not stop staring as they walked by, wanting to catch a glimpse of the newest Lady. It was unnerving. 

You watched Orlo fumble with the stitches of his clothing, wondering how he could survive in this vicious court. He seemed sweet and Catherine liked him. Without thinking, you asked, "Can I tell you a secret?"

His breath hitched. He barely answered, the words leaving his mouth in a breath. "O-of course."

You swallowed hard, knowing you needed to get it off your chest. "I am scared about living here as a Lady. I might have left my soulmate behind in Germany. I could end up alone for the rest of my life."

Letting out a little sigh, you shrugged, letting your dress fall down your shoulders. You scrambled to replace it but Orlo's eyes immediately fell to your collarbone, his gaze trailing over the white lines glowing under candlelight. He let out a shaky breath and mumbled something slightly incoherent about his own secret.

You raised an eyebrow but dropped it as you noticed a deep sadness fill his eyes. 

Orlo bit his lip, closing his eyes. He gave a helpless shrug with his head down. "I-I know I am going to be alone for the rest of my life."

You shook your head. That could not be the case. Orlo was beautiful. Sure, he was the victim of many japes and jests by Peter and the rest of the court, but there had to be somebody for him. Letting your gaze trail over his lips, you whispered, "No, that cannot be. Why would you say that?"

Orlo scoffed and met your gaze. "Because Lady Svenska is my soulmate."


	3. The Soulmate Mark

Your friendship (if that is truly what you wanted to call it) with the Count bloomed easily from that night in the library – soft, precious, and fragile. Despite your new habit of meeting with him every night, no encounter could match the gentle relief of letting a person see the real you for the first time. 

The night lingered in your head while you drifted off to sleep - how a hesitant Orlo offered up his thick coat when he realized you shivered in your thin nightgown. His face had broken into a soft smile and he claimed you wore it better as you pulled it over yourself like a blanket.

Despite your short period of time together, you felt you truly knew him. Though, perhaps, he certainly was a strange man. Often, he sat quiet and reflective, slipping into an invisible shell like a tortoise. But whenever you were alone talking over a cup of tea in his apartments or hiding in the library together, he came alive. It was as if his secret sadness about his soulmate weighed him down. 

Now that you knew, you could share the heaviness and provide company void of any judgment.

That night as the candlelight slowly dimmed, flickering off the pages of the books, you and Orlo told each other about your lives until you fell asleep. 

You only realized your mistake when you woke up to the sunlight streaming into the room. Orlo had fallen asleep with his body angled towards you, moving even closer overnight. In the light of the early morning sun, you found the man’s head barely resting on your thigh, his mouth terribly close to where it seemed he would never go.

While you certainly appreciated the sight of this beautiful man with his head nearly in your lap, the other palace residents would have noticed how the two of you were absent. Unfortunately, you had to tap his shoulder and hiss his name for Orlo to realize where he was. 

Orlo had scrambled up so fast from his position that he resembled a doe taking its first steps – a mess of flesh and limbs. He echoed expletives as you handed up his coat but froze as you wrapped your arms around him.

“I do not feel so alone anymore,” you whispered. In reality, you wanted to mention how you hoped that, perhaps, he did not either. You were not certain if it was your mind conjuring up the feeling, but you swore you could feel Orlo shiver at your words.

You could not forget the look in his eyes as he claimed Lady Svenska did not love him. She publicly denounced him and claimed a random lover in the palace, leading Orlo to become the subject of many, many japes. Your heart broke for him. 

Being in his presence, it did not seem possible that anyone would give him up. When you looked at Orlo, you saw light. It radiated from him, warming up your chest. Every instance that he smiled at something you said, your heart had to run to catch up after itself.

So what if you were now a Lady? You were going to pluck Orlo from Lady Svenska’s vicious hands. If Lady Svenska and many other palace residents could disregard the theory of a soulmate; naturally, so could you. 

A few weeks after your first meeting in the library, you wandered among the gardens, taking your daily walk in the late afternoon. Much to Lila’s chagrin, you appreciated being alone, feeling the sun and crisp air on your cheeks. 

You were about to head back inside when you noticed a small figure curled up behind a tree. As you squinted at them, you realized exactly who it was: Orlo. He was nose-deep in a thick novel, his gaze intent on the text in front of him. His glasses even slipped down his nose, but he did not notice, so entranced by the words he was reading. 

Stifling a smile and biting your lip, you tip-toed up to the tree. As you reached him, you carefully bent down and whispered, “Boo.” 

Orlo’s entire body jolted. “Fuck,” he hissed, as his glasses fell down his face. He turned to you with raised eyebrows, watching as you fluffed out your dress in amusement. His face fell into an annoyed pout. “Are you satisfied, Y/N?” 

You smirked, moving to sit next to Orlo as he relaxed, keeping a comfortable distance by his standards. “Indeed. What are you reading?” 

“A delectable novel by a Russian author, Azimentov. The way he conjures up visions with words, ah, it leaves one breathless," he replied. He let out a content sigh, holding the book in his lap.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Of course. I can imagine that books are sincerely the best way to lose your breath.” 

You kept your eyes trained on him, a teasing smile never leaving your mouth. Orlo’s eyes fell over your face before he quickly looked away, swallowing a lump growing in his throat. 

You were inching your hand closer, and he realized it as your pinky nearly wrapped around his. He started to stammer, clutching the book closer to his chest. “P-perhaps, we could read it together. One night when we meet in the, uh, l-library?” 

Nodding, you moved to stand up, a smile growing on your face at the idea of making him nervous. It was adorable. You wanted to continue sitting with him, but you had plans to meet with Catherine, Marial, and Leo for a drink and you did not want to be late. 

You were about to offer Orlo a hand when you noticed Lady Svenska standing in the entrance to the gardens. She narrowed her eyes at you, a gaze that ripped through you like a dagger. She let out a laugh before turning to walk back inside. 

You froze, turning back to look at Orlo, wondering what she had seen, and how quickly the cruel rumors would spread throughout the palace.

~

Sitting around a table with Catherine, Marial, and Leo, you listened closely to the conversation and took a sip out of the glass in front of you, trying to swallow without grimacing. The vodka Leo created had a strength and bitterness that hit your throat with a grit. 

Your head was spinning, and you were unsure if it was from the alcohol or the explanation of the soulmate mark within the palace. 

As Marial explained it, having a soulmate mark was important years earlier. But it faded out of fashion in recent years, the palace residents choosing to enjoy their own lovers, sometimes in addition to those whose marks matched theirs. “It was a fad, trying to find your soulmate,” she claimed, waving a lazy hand in the air. “People were desperate for a while, but they grew tired of it. Cannot say I blame them.” 

Catherine and Leo both tilted their heads at her. “It cannot be all that bad, Marial,” Leo teased. He pulled back his sleeve to show his soulmate mark: a series of beautiful swirls on his forearm. Catherine did the same, nudging him. 

Apparently, it was unusual for soulmates to have them in the same spot, but the shapes always matched exactly - every line with every swirl. 

Marial shrugged, setting her glass down with a flourish, a laugh bubbling out of her. “The glowing is the funny part. You have to trust the other person to tell you the truth.”

“You are supposed to trust your soulmate, Marial,” Catherine commented. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Glowing? No person had told you about any part of your body glowing. You were relatively inexperienced with the idea of a soulmate mark. Most of the time, you elected to ignore it, chalking it up to odd lines on your skin that not many people noticed. 

Only you knew they were there, seeing the faint swirls that rose up from your skin on your collarbone. They were barely noticeable to other people unless they looked closely, seeing the indents under your gowns. Sometimes, they looked like a light shade of your skin if you sat in the sunlight; other times, they never showed.

Yet, according to Marial, your soulmate mark turned white when you were in the same area as your soulmate. You swallowed, remembering how the swirls looked like white spidery veins every time you glanced at them during a bath in the palace.

Catherine giggled, placing her hand on Leo’s as she looked at you. “Yes, your mark will glow to the other person. It's beautiful.” 

You glanced at Marial who was biting her lip in amusement. Clearly, this was funny to her but you were not sure why. Nobody ever explained any of this to you back home.

Catherine shook her head after a particularly big gulp of vodka. She turned to you with a bright smile on her face. “Let us change the subject, perhaps, to you and Orlo, Y/N? What is that?” 

Marial cringed. “Yes. What is that?” 

Straightening your spine, you cleared your throat, choosing to take another sip of vodka as an excuse to gather your thoughts. Truthfully, you were not sure what you and Orlo were. In his eyes, you were most likely friends, but to you, you had to be more. At least, you wanted to be more. Soulmates or not, you had found an attraction to him the moment you saw him in the hallway on your very first day in the palace. He was extraordinary. 

“Nothing,” you finally replied, holding back a sigh. “It is nothing. He and Lady Svenska are soulmates and I will respect it.” 

They all blinked at you as if they did not believe a word you had said. You were never a good liar and they all saw how you interacted with him, lingering with him in the corners of rooms, stealing glances during dinner.

Marial choked on her vodka, blinking at you. “They are not. I do not believe it for a second.” 

Catherine and Leo looked equally confused at your confession. Clearly, it was not well-advertised, though she had publicly told some residents in the palace that she would never, ever fall in love with a “lobcock like that Orlo.” 

“Why?” you asked Marial, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. 

Marial rolled her eyes. “I know every single one of those Ladies. Lady Svenska is a scheming bitch. I know, for a fact, that she painted her mark with iridescent paint, so it glowed when Orlo saw it for the first time.” 

Your heart stopped. “But...but they have the same soulmate mark,” you mumbled, feeling silly as you ran your hand over your glass, trying to hold anything to keep yourself together.

You watched as Marial stared at you, her face unfaltering. A slight smirk curled up on her lips. “No, they do not. It is slightly different, a tiny swirl out of place. It is hard to notice, which is why Orlo believed her.” She laughed and shook her head as your mouth opened and closed. You couldn’t find the words as she continued, “He is not as clever as he looks. And he is definitely not soulmates with Lady Svenska. She simply wanted a soulmate and took the only option, only to humiliate him.”

Catherine and Leo both fell into grins. Leo winked at you. “I suppose you do not have to respect anyone now, Y/N?” he asked with a laugh.

Catherine smiled. She met your gaze and teased, “Please. Go to him. Why must you waste your time with us when you could be spending time with Orlo, your secret lover?”

You let out the breath you had been holding for a long time, feeling your heart begin to race. Looking at all of them, you pushed out your chair. "We are not lovers," you tried to insist with a shrug. "But okay, I will go see him."


	4. The Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a serious trigger warning for the discussion and depiction of rape. Please, please do not read the entire chapter if you are not comfortable with the topic. I have marked the actual moment off with asterisks so you know what you can skip. If you’d rather skip it altogether due to the discussion of it, that is perfectly fine as well. 
> 
> PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR THIS CHAPTER. I tried to be very, very careful with this. Hopefully, I did okay.
> 
> I promise the next and final chapter will be entirely fluff.

Steps away from the entrance of Orlo’s apartments, your hands were balled into fists. You must have appeared rather daft, still a bit dazed from Leo’s homemade vodka. Shaking out your hands and quickly smoothing out your dress, you closed your eyes for a moment to prepare yourself, leaning up against the ornate wall.

This was it. This was the moment that Catherine, Leo, and Marial coaxed you into: telling Orlo about Lady Svenska and your instant feelings for him. 

Of course, Orlo was never a man to judge. Orlo saw you in your nightgown on the first night you met him and gave up his coat. 

But this was different. This was not a bearing of the skin, but a bearing of your heart and soul. Orlo could ignore your dress slipping down your shoulder, but he would certainly fall apart at you admitting how you truly felt about him.

The prospect of his rejection terrified you. But this was necessary. If you wanted to be involved with Count Orlo, you had to make the first move yourself, even if you were made out to be a fool. 

As you opened your eyes and stared ahead at the two guards in front of his doors, your heart thumped in your chest. Seeing Orlo was enough to send your insides into a flutter. But in this instance, you had information about him that could humiliate him. That turned the flutter into a series of knots. Your hand brushed over your stomach in an attempt to heal it, but it was clear. No matter what, you had to let him know about Lady Svenska.

Taking in a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the wall. 

The guards stationed at Orlo’s apartments, Igor and Vasily, had seen you so often that they did not even bat an eye when you wandered up to them. They simply glanced at each other and opened the doors without a word, sending you inside without an announcement. 

As you walked inside, fully prepared to declare your love, you were surprised to see his apartments empty. You tried your best to hide the lump in your throat as you quietly walked in, noticing a servant dusting Orlo’s desk. The servant, Andrei, glanced up at you. He gave a short bow as you inquired about Orlo. With a gulp, he nervously answered, “He is in his bedroom, Lady Y/N.”

You raised an eyebrow at him before thanking him. Why would Orlo be in his bedroom? Was he under the weather? Certainly, one of the guards would have warned you if he was contagious. 

However, you did stress to Orlo about the comfort of reading in bed. Perhaps, he considered your idea. 

As you placed your hand on the doorknob, you heard a deep moan, followed by a few others that were breathy and ragged. Your heart skipped at the sound. 

Was Orlo masturbating? While the thought of him with his hand around his cock intrigued you, it seemed rather out of character for the man. He seemed mortified to wake up with his face so close to your lap. But alas, Orlo might have done more things in private than the palace knew.

Perhaps you were hearing things. You opened the door. “Orlo, I really must speak wit--” 

****

You shuddered at the sight in front of you. Orlo was in a compromising position, but certainly not in the compromising position some part of you hoped for when you heard the noise. His socks, shoes, and pants had been thrown a few inches from the bed, left in a crumpled mess on the floor. 

Orlo himself was on the bed, half-naked, his face contorted and breathless. And he was not alone. 

There was a woman on top of him, pinning his wrists down. She had her skirts hiked up around her waist, tumbling over Orlo’s bottom half. With her eyes closed, she rocked on top of him, attempting to reach her high. But Orlo was clearly not participating as she was. He looked helpless with his eyes wide, clouding with an emotion you could not place. 

As you audibly gasped, the two looked at you. The woman in question was Lady Svenska. 

She smirked, raising an eyebrow as if she enjoyed an audience. She continued to rock on Orlo, dramatically raising an arm in the air and throwing her head back. “Come on, you lobcock, must I do all the work?” she spat. 

Tears welled up in your eyes. You desperately wanted to leave, run away, and never speak to Orlo again. But you were frozen, unable to put one foot in front of the other. You tried to speak, to yell at Lady Svenska, but you could not get the words out. 

All you could do was stand in horror, listening to the sounds of the man you loved sleeping with another woman. How could he sleep with Lady Svenska, the woman who publicly humiliated him? 

“Svenska, stop, please,” Orlo mumbled, his voice slurring through the words. 

“No,” she barked. “Be a gentleman and let me finish.” 

Quickly, Lady Svenska gave one last series of rocks, her hand reaching down to finish herself. Rolling into an orgasm, she cried out with hysterical laughter, breathing heavily as she shoved herself off of Orlo. 

You gritted your teeth as Lady Svenska raised her eyebrows at you. “He is all yours now, Lady Y/N.”

**** 

She moved to leave the room, her legs shaky before you finally shook out your body. Adrenaline began to course through your veins as you shoved her. “Despicable cunt,” you spat. “How could you?” 

“Are you jealous that I had his cock before you?” Lady Svenska giggled, tossing a look back at the man in the bed, who was now attempting to cover himself up with his sheets. “He is clearly useless in the bedroom. I could do better work with my fingers.” 

“Get out,” you barked. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you were terribly full of anger. If you did not hold back, pure animalistic intentions would have taken over your body. You could have killed her for touching Orlo in that way, especially when Orlo asked her to stop.

Lady Svenska shrugged and picked a piece of lint off her skirts as if you were boring her. But as she looked up at you, a fire burned in her eyes. “You are not meant to be a Lady. I will ruin you, you dirty German.” 

You waved her off, desperately wanting to comfort Orlo. “I will gladly ruin myself, Svenska. Get the fuck out.” 

With a huff, Lady Svenska rolled her eyes and stalked out, leaving you and Orlo alone. 

You immediately ran up to Orlo who was looking at you with wide eyes. Tear marks ghosted his cheeks. He heaved a shaky sigh, clutching the sheets with white knuckles. You moved to brush the tears that were falling, but he flinched at your touch, looking away. 

Swallowing hard, you took your hand away. “I am so sorry, Orlo. I can leave you alone.” 

He sniffed. “N-no. S-stay. Please.” 

You let your eyes fall over him, your own tears threatening to fall as you trailed your gaze down his body. He looked like he had been through hell. His long black hair was out of its ribbon, his hair just reaching his shoulders. His shirts sat wrinkled on his chest. He gripped the sheets to cover his naked half in embarrassment. A look in his eyes said he was not sure what to do next.

You hesitated before you tilted your head at him. “Can I, uh, help you?” 

Orlo glanced at you in fear for a moment before you realized what you had insinuated. You shook your head profusely. 

“No, no, not in that way,” you stammered. “I meant, perhaps, I can run you a bath.” 

Orlo let out another sigh and nodded softly. You gave him a reassuring smile before you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. This time, he didn’t move. You whispered, “I will be right back with a bath gown for you.” 

~

When Orlo slipped into the bath, he insisted he still wanted you to stay. You sat on a small stool next to the bath, studying him. You were not sure what to say to him. All you wanted to do was apologize.

He sank into the warm water and let his muscles relax, his hair falling around his face. As you looked at him, he tilted his head to meet your gaze. He opened his mouth for a moment, before closing it again, looking away. Finally, he whispered, “I did not want to sleep with her.”

You took in a breath and bit your lip. “I know.” 

“She put something in my drink,” he continued, running a hand over his face. “She claimed she wanted to apologize. I am so foolish.” 

“You are not foolish, Orlo.” 

“I believed her.”

Moving off your stool, you knelt down next to the bath. The floor felt cold underneath your knees, as your dress pooled around you. But you were filled with warmth as you stared at the man in front of you. Your chest filled with love and sympathy. “Orlo, you are an amazing man. I am so sorry that this happened to you.” 

“It was not your fault, Y/N.” 

You swallowed, folding your arms on the side of the bath. Resting your chin on them, you whispered, "I wish I stopped her."

Orlo considered your words for a moment, softly nodding. Sadness pooled in his eyes. Sitting in a bloated silence, you moved away as if to give him space, your hands gripping the side of the bath. Finally, he looked at you again. “She is not my soulmate.” 

Your lips parted as you tried not to grip the bath harder. “I know. I was coming to tell you...” you trailed off, wanting to continue and tell him the other reason why you went to his apartments. But instead, you stopped, letting the words stay on your tongue.

“Well, she told me. Paint,” Orlo said. He bit his lip and laughed bitterly. The softness was replaced with a slight anger as he shook his head in frustration.

He was about to say more when he turned on his side to completely face you, a wet hand reaching out and nearly touching yours. As he looked at you, it was like the anger dissipated, fizzling into a sea of stars. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you broke your gaze, your eyes falling to his bicep. 

On his upper arm was a series of swirls and lines, and they were glowing. 

Quickly, you thought back to when you insisted on glancing away as he undressed, giving him privacy. Even in the bath, the other half of his body was hidden from view. “Orlo,” you spoke softly. “Your, uh, arm.” 

Orlo glanced down at his arm, eyebrows lacing together. “What?” 

“It’s glowing,” you insisted, tilting your head towards it. 

As Orlo realized what you had just said, he gasped, his eyes widening. For a moment, his mouth opened and closed as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“I thought it was a trick of the candlelight in the library,” he whispered, his voice squeaking at the end. He sat up, and continued, “Your collarbone. I saw it then.” 

You stared at him, the realization and weight of the words falling over you. 

Breathing in, you let your lips curl into a clumsy smile. “Orlo, we are soulmates.”


End file.
